


The Cheap Seats

by jackfish



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, M/M, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackfish/pseuds/jackfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Gamora break into Yondu's cabin to recover stolen goods, only to see more than they expected to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cheap Seats

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [Guardians of the Galaxy Kink Meme](http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=955918#t955918) on [Livejournal](http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/).

"I know that ship inside and out," he'd said, flashing his most winning smile. "Come on, guys. What could possibly go wrong?"

In his defence, at least 86% of the plan had been bulletproof. 

Alter the Milano's call signal and sneak into the line of M-ships returning to the Eclector while the Ravagers were refuelling at Zero Point Station? Check.

Lie low with Gamora in the Milano until the coast was clear? Check.

Use his superior knowledge of the Eclector to sneak Gamora into Yondu's cabin without being seen? Check.

Correctly guess that Yondu and the rest of the crew would be celebrating their heist (check), leaving the cabin empty (check), with the Sacred Crystals of Lapazar locked inside Yondu's personal safe behind the false wall (check).

"I told you!" he crowed as Gamora got the safe cracked. "He always keeps the best stuff in here. Doesn't trust any of his crew farther than he can throw them."

"I cannot imagine why," Gamora said drily. She lightly lifted a black stone box from among the obsessively neat stacks of data drives, shiny minerals, and illicit substances. The lid popped to reveal a row of shimmering celestial diamonds.

Peter grinned. The only thing sweeter than the thought of cheering up an adorable little high priestess who happened to be a dead ringer for the Childlike Empress was the thought of stealing something from right out under Yondu's nose.

"Let's—" 

No sooner had he opened his mouth than Gamora clapped her hand over it. Her leg kicked up in a swift arc, sweeping the wall panel shut. It hit the latch with a smooth click, and Peter was about to lick her palm and accuse her of being too jumpy when he heard what had set her off.

Laughter. Footsteps.

They were barely audible under the hum and clatter of the ship, but they were coming closer. Peter held still, willing them to pass on by. Yondu's cabin was out of the way, but it wasn't inconceivable that someone might be taking a shortcut between the engine room and the scrap metal hold. 

_Keep going_ , Peter thought. _Just keep on walking_.

No such luck.

The footsteps stopped right in front of the cabin door. The lock turned as the pass-scan validated. Peter stuck out his tongue, and Gamora snatched back her hand with a hiss. There wasn't much room in the hiding space with the door of the safe half-open and digging into his back, but he jostled forward to peer out through the thin seam where the panel met the wall.

Yondu was staggering into the cabin, his arm slung around Kraglin's shoulders. They were laughing hard about something, which made Peter ease back slightly. Maybe they weren't here to look over the goods, but just to grab another bottle of booze to take back to the party. They looked pretty drunk already by the way they were holding each other up, swaying and bumping into each other as they crossed the floor. 

Their feet tangled, and Yondu fell backwards onto the bed. Peter waited for him to spring up and take a swing at Kraglin for tripping him, but he didn't. He only lay there, and from the angle Peter had on him, he could just about make out the smirk at the corner of Yondu's mouth. A terrible sense of foreboding stirred.

"Come on, baby," Yondu said, crooking his fingers and beckoning Kraglin closer. "Give Papa some sugar."

Oh. 

God. 

No.

* * *

Gamora did not initially understand why Peter was whispering "Kill me, please kill me now" in her ear, but she considered it very lucky that Drax was not in attendance to take him up on it.

She could hear, beyond Peter's fervent pleas, a curious series of rustling thumps. Poking her elbow into Peter's side, she wedged herself in front of him to look out into the room. She took stock of the situation and cleared up some of her confusion by determining, in quick succession, that "baby" was meant as a term of romantic endearment, "sugar" was a euphemism for kisses, and the rustling thumps had been caused by Yondu's first officer climbing onto the bed to obey his captain's command.

Well. That was unexpected. She had not been aware that the two were lovers, but perhaps this was what Peter had been referring to when he once claimed—while wincing and making a baffling hand motion—that the two were "a thing".

Her head slowly tilted as she took in the scene. Kraglin was straddling Yondu's hips, curled over him and kissing him with startling ardour. Yondu's hands were both on Kraglin's waist, scrabbling to find and pull up the edges of his shirt.

She caught a glimpse of many faded black tattoos on Kraglin's back. Her hearing sharpened, narrowing in on the rasp of coarse beards amidst the wet sounds of kissing. 

Discomfort warred with fascination. She was aware of a tension in her shoulders that eased slightly when Kraglin straightened up with a sharp-toothed but happy grin, unbuckling his holsters and stripping to the waist. His shirt and rigging were flung over the side of the bed before he bent low to kiss Yondu again.

She was not unfamiliar with sex, at least as a spectator. Her work for Thanos had led to many dark places with little care for the privacy of others. The things she had seen had sometimes been furtive, sometimes decadent, often violent, and altogether bearing little resemblance to the uncoordinated wrestling and shedding of clothing currently taking place on the bed.

This was certainly...enthusiastic.

"What are they doing?" Peter whispered. "No, wait. I don't want to know. Just tell me when it's over."

Four boots hit the floor heavily. Gamora's eyebrow quirked upwards in appraisal as another shirt, two pairs of pants, and various weapons and articles of underclothing soon joined the bedside pile. For all the few similarities between their species, Yondu and Kraglin shared a soldier's build and an assortment of scars, ink, and piercings that suggested a surprisingly fitting kinship. 

Kraglin let out a sudden whoop as Yondu flipped him over. The bed frame clanked as he landed on his back with Yondu on top of him. Gamora could not quite see what happened next, but the motion of Yondu's arm was familiar enough as his hand moved between Kraglin's thighs. Noisy sucking smacks left little to the imagination as Yondu pressed his mouth to Kraglin's neck, then his chest, and then his stomach.

To Gamora's surprise, Kraglin's first low moan brought a blush of heat to her face.

* * *

Even with his fingers jammed in his ears, Peter could hear them.

Correction: he was pretty sure it was only Kraglin he was hearing. 

On the surface, this might seem like it would be 50% better than the alternative, but it was in fact 100% worse because the one-sided nature of the noises forced him to imagine what was going on with Yondu's mouth. He forbid himself from even thinking about the BJ-word, which of course immediately had the exact opposite effect and lit it up in fifty-foot glowing red letters inside his brain.

He was definitely listening to Yondu giving Kraglin a blowjob.

This was officially the second-worst day of his life.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He tried inhaling and exhaling rapidly so that the sound of his own breathing blocked out the muffled moaning, but Gamora jabbed him with her elbow to make him stop. She really did not seem to grasp the full weight of the situation. Here he was, crowded into a very tight space, with her pressed against the front of his body, and he could not have gotten an erection if his life depended on it. He might never get an erection ever again.

Okay, it wasn't like he didn't know that Yondu and Kraglin had sex. He'd had a front row seat for the PG-rated portion of their terrifying courtship when he was ten, and while he was a little slow on the uptake—having only had a few Very Special Episodes and one after school special for reference when the Ravagers abducted him—he had eventually figured out that all that mouth-kissing and ass-slapping wasn't just another weird alien thing. 

The whole bioessentialism deal had been one of the least painful Terran hang-ups to shed, so his problem wasn't that they were both male, for a given galactic definition of male. (Because seriously, Kraglin had ended up being the one to have the Am I Normal talk with him when he hit puberty, and Peter had gotten the impression that while Kraglin looked Terran enough with his clothes on, he had some sort of confusing and possibly prehensile set-up down there). It was just that, sad as it was, Yondu was the closest thing he had to a father. 

And Kraglin was the closest thing he had to his father's annoying space-pirate-trophy-wife. 

Peter was all for them sharing some twisted, mutually fulfilling lifelong commitment, not least because to his recollection, Yondu had actually _mellowed_ since getting together with Kraglin. But he didn't need to see them expressing their horrible love. 

Or hear them.

He tried running TV theme songs through his head to distract himself. 

_Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got..._

Moaning. 

_...travelled down the road and back again..._

Dirty laughter.

_...times are changing every day..._

Yondu's voice, muted but unmistakably sweet-talking. 

Silence. Just long enough to give Peter an awful taste of hope. Then a rhythmic rocking started up and he began to legitimately consider shooting himself.

* * *

"Holy—"

Only one hoarse, heavy-breathed word in three could be heard over the noisy banging of the bed against the wall. 

"—fuck—yeah—"

Competing with the clang of metal were the frantic slamming of hips propelling the bed back and forth and the subtle, wet sounds of slick penetration. The pair were locked together by the tight clasp of Kraglin's arms and legs behind Yondu's back. Long pale pink feet flexed, ankles crossed and toes curling. The muscles running down either side of Yondu's dorsal crest rippled powerfully as he drove forward, and the half-dazed grin on Kraglin's lips held no complaint with the urgent pace.

It was altogether a not-unaffecting display.

Gamora's blush had crept down, bringing heat to the tips of her fingers and toes. The low-throated moaning made her press her thighs together and left her acutely aware of Peter's nearness behind her. 

Mercifully, he seemed too intent on stubbornly ignoring their predicament to notice the slight quickening of her breath. It would not surprise her if he had not even given thought to how they were going to get back to the Milano. Fortunately, she had already planned out five potential routes of escape in the event that they were discovered.

"—right there—"

She pressed closer to the panel, angling for a better view. It behooved one of them, at least, to keep an eye on the situation.

Her attention leapt lightly from straight white scars on blue skin to Kraglin's fingertips digging hard into the softer flesh of Yondu's backside. The gleam of sweat—she could smell it, salty and thin, mingling with the heavier musk of thicker fluids. A glimpse of a red tongue as mouths met in a messy kiss. Kraglin arched up suddenly with a low noise in his throat when Yondu grabbed hold of his short shock of hair and pulled, hand twisting.

Gamora committed the sound to memory for later consideration. With a lightly thrilling pang in her stomach, she added to it Yondu's rasping growl and the brief press of brow to brow before the raucous flurry of motion that followed.

Kraglin let out a cry so loud that Peter palpably flinched behind her. The note held, warbling, as he was taken even harder and faster than before. The loose rails of the bed frame squealed and clattered. Paused. Clattered again, this time with a whooping shout of triumph from Yondu. Paused once more, leaving only heavy breathing in its place.

"I hate my life," Peter whispered.

She elbowed him again.

"Fuck," Kraglin sighed, running a hand across his brow.

She could see his legs shaking, and she spied the shadow of something moving against his stomach as Yondu slowly withdrew. He sank back under more than a few lazy passes of Yondu's mouth, and Gamora briefly shut her eyes, attempting to quell the expectant throbbing between her legs.

It proved to be in vain when she opened her eyes again just in time to see Kraglin laying a hand on top of Yondu's head and very firmly pushing him down to finish what he'd started.

* * *

In some other universe, Peter might have actually been kind of impressed by Kraglin's staying power. Not that he himself had any problems in that department (any more) but it seemed like the kind of thing people who weren't them might exchange a manly high-five over after the right number of drinks. Like, hey, congratulations on having really dirty-sounding sex for a really long time, way to live the dream. 

As it was, he was currently praying to any merciful god who would listen for Kraglin to just come already. 

Every time it seemed to go quiet, Peter would make the mistake of hesitantly unstopping one ear, only to hear a quiet "oh, fuck..." or, worse, a long and nasty _slurp_. It was almost a relief when Kraglin finally got noisy again, moaning and cursing and rattling the bed frame for reasons Peter didn't even want to imagine.

"Yeah—yeah, right there—right—fuck—fuck!"

Peter wasn't going to be fooled again. He waited, his fingers still in his ears. Nothing. He waited a little longer. Still nothing.

Tense and wary, he finally brought his hands down. All he could hear was heavy breathing and the sound of someone moving around on the bed. Shifting blankets. A long sigh. Gamora still had her eye pressed to the gap in the panel, and Peter figured she must have the strongest stomach of anyone he had ever met.

She shifted her weight, almost wiggling. He wondered if her leg was going to sleep like his was.

"Is it really over?" he whispered.

She elbowed him again.

They ended up stuck in the wall for what had to be at least another quarter-hour. Thankfully, Yondu and Kraglin weren't the kind to indulge in much pillow talk. There was a brief discussion about whether either of them was hungry, the verdict being that neither of them was hungry enough to get out of bed, followed by some muttering about the work rosters and whether the starboard engine was sounding funny. 

Then quiet.

Then snoring.

This wasn't the first time Peter had to sneak out of Yondu's cabin after breaking in, but it was the first time he'd had to do it with his eyes closed, because one split-second glimpse of Yondu's bare blue ass—with Kraglin's hand on top of it—threatened to blind him. Gamora shoved the jewel box into his hands, grabbed him by the arm, and impatiently pulled him to the door, which she opened up silently and eased shut behind them.

From there, his plan went back to being a perfectly sound one.

Make their way to the hangar unseen? Check.

Temporarily cut out the ship's signal reader and sneak the Milano out? Check.

Fly along under the main port duct to keep off the ship's radar before cutting the engines and letting the Eclector put safe distance between them? Check.

Set a course back to Zero Point Station with their well-gotten goods and the whole unpleasant business put behind them? Check and check.

"That was interesting," Gamora eventually said.

Peter stared straight ahead out the view screen. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"I mean Yondu and—"

"Nothing happened!" he shouted, his voice coming out higher than he would have liked.

In the corner of his eye, he could see Gamora frown.

"We didn't see anything," he insisted. "We walked in, we walked out, that's all."

"I never took you for prudish, Peter."

"Prudish? I'm not—"

"Sex is perfectly natural."

"Look, I don't know what—"

"It was obviously consensual..."

"—you think you saw, but—"

"...and they seemed very compatible."

"LALALALA-LALALALA!"

"Now you're just being childish, Peter."

He kept on singing until she sighed and turned away. She walked out of the cockpit and into the back. A moment later, the hatch leading down to his bunk opened and then shut. He heard the lock slide, which seemed weird, but he shrugged and rubbed his eyes before putting some music on. 

She probably just wanted some time alone to get that awful picture out of her head.


End file.
